


Predators

by Echo_S1



Category: The Veil - Fandom, TikTok - Fandom
Genre: Beastling Marcus, Blood Drinking, Blood Type V - Freeform, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Teasing, legendary creatures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-03
Updated: 2019-06-03
Packaged: 2020-04-07 11:24:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19084036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Echo_S1/pseuds/Echo_S1
Summary: George hadn't expected so much cleanup to be needed in The Veil that night. He'd thought he could quickly clean, sneak out in the middle of the night, and grab something to eat. He'd expected it all to go smoothly. What he didn't expect: was Marcus. Marcus standing in the bar's kitchen, with a dead man's arm in his mouth.





	Predators

**Author's Note:**

> Please do not tell me that my writing is blocky. I fully understand that, and I get enough comments about it. I am going to begin writing notes at the beginning of each of my stories to let people know that this writing style of mine will NOT change due to a medical condition I have. I hope you enjoy the story, and I look forward to your feedback. Please check out the two Tik Toker's mentioned in it: they are lovely people!
> 
> ~Echo_S1

Predators 

(I like Tik Tok, and this story is about @the_ridlr’s George and @hardtokillzombie’s Marcus Mason)

 

Patrons who came to “The Veil” were often lost, confused, and seeking guidance from the many pains they suffered in life. Some of those patrons were monsters, either vicious or not, or human, innocent or not. It didn’t matter who showed up. What mattered was that they obeyed the few rules of the hotel: No fighting. If you do, take it outside. If you break something, you pay for it. No excessive cursing. Sexual activity is to remain in the rooms, and not in public areas. It _seemed_ simple enough.

Being the owner of The Veil, George had many responsibilities. Cleaning, customer care, and maintaining everything from damage control to protection. Damage control? Sometimes the patrons got a little _too_ rough, usually physically. Cleanup was key in those situations, and George’s staff were happy to oblige. The staff were paid handsomely, and shown immense respect by both the ancient vampire, and the patrons, no matter how large or small.

On this night, however, George had been maintaining the bar downstairs, serving customers and such, on a near empty stomach of his own. Due to his age, George had immense control over his blood consumption, and lost control on very few occasions. But, when he did, many died in the world of man. Several thousand years old already, George’s slightly shorter, yet thin frame disguised him as a weak, but highly disciplined man seemingly somewhere in his thirties, usually betraying him when he displayed his pure strength, speed, or magical abilities. He _did_ create The Veil on his own magical supply. Oftentimes, George would catch females of varying species staring at him from afar, observing his seemingly young features. George himself was bald, sported a thin mustache that curled at the ends, bright blue eyes, and thin black eyebrows often positioned in a firm line. A thin goatee sat on his chin, and a pair of thin framed glasses sat against his nose. His clothing of choice often was a man’s dress shirt with a collar, varying ties of pattern, and a vest that had the look of snakeskin.

Few of the patrons actually knew what George was, and if they did, they had a reason to _fear_ his power. Some, though, made fun of him when it seemed as if he wasn’t looking. Earlier this evening, for instance, a young Harpy had heard the rumor of George being a “bloodsucker”, and decided to tease the gentleman. She ghosted a hand across her feathery neck, seductively smirking at him as he glanced at her.

“Look at my poor neck, all bare and tender and exposed. All that blood just _pumping_ away.” she teased as he hefted her beer bottle away and disposed of it. George had offered her a disapproving glance in return, moving away to serve another patron as he called for another staff member to handle her.

“Oh, _please_ . Jiles! Make her stop.” the bartender scoffed lightheartedly. If any of the other patrons had been paying direct attention to the vampire, they would’ve seen the flash of his tongue licking his lips as he vanished behind the counter. George later found himself joking with another patron, an old friend, his fangs out just a little.

“So, when do your fangs come out, darling George? Mine have a habit of coming out when I’m unusually tired. It’s like they have a mind of their own!” the patron giggled. George smirked at her as he cleaned a glass, showing off his fangs a little bit more in a toothy grin.

“Is it my fault if my fangs come out when I get turned on?” he asked, winking charmingly. The patron burst out laughing, taking another swig of wine.

“Such a charming fellow you are, George. Of course it’s your fault, you oaf!” she replied. Some of the other patrons laughed at George’s joke, watching the vampire pocket his fangs and smile mischievously at the woman he was serving.

A long time ago, during the beginning of his years as a vampire, the ancient _had_ lost control, which left him self conscious of his fangs. His intention was to feed on one unsuspecting human. His plan: surprise the woman with a bouquet of flowers, draw her away from the crowd of the evening market, take just a few minutes of feeding time, and move on. Turns out the woman had been tracking him across the past few states, listening to rumors that a “gentleman” bloodsucker was luring people away at random and draining them dry. The rumors were false, and the vampire hunter was too entertained by the reward to care for any explanation he could offer her. She’d set a trap, he didn’t recognise the signs of a hunter, and she drew attention to the pair as he tried to lure her away. The result: not one, but _seven_ dead humans. He despised himself for years after, but moved on just as he always had. No one knew of his mistake, but the rumors followed him for decades in the future.

Every night, George returns to his room and ponders whether to go out and feed, just a _little_ bit, but his memory stops him. The patrons making fun of his vampiric nature was drawing the little energy he had spare, and functioning as he usually was wasn’t working. The effects of starvation was being viewed by his patrons: his tiredness, his grumbling stomach, he fell asleep twice on his shift, the dark circles under his eyes, the extra paleness of his skin, and his lack of physical power which left him to call security more often than usual.

‘Tonight. I will go tonight.’ he promised himself, gathering the last of the trash from the pipe lounge and taking it out to the dumpsters. Heading to the kitchen, he noted the light under the door, signalling that one of his staff members were still on shift. He’d dismissed all of them for the night more than an hour ago, his eyebrow raising as he approached the closed door. Carefully turning the knob, he eased the metallic door open, finding himself gazing upon the backside of a black-clad figure. Almost instantaneously, George recognised the figure by the short, brown hair and silver cross on the figure’s neck, along with the torn sleeves of the figure’s black shirt, black jeans, black shoes, and black fingerless gloves on the figure’s hands.

Marcus was definitely more muscular looking from the back, especially from where George was standing. Marcus was one of George’s staff members, trusted exponentially more due to his loyalty and affection for the ancient vampire. Being a Barghest, or Yorkshire Black Dog, Marcus sometimes took on the form of a large, black dog with sharp fangs and red eyes that hunts sinners at night, killing by draining its victims of blood then consuming their flesh. It wasn’t an unusual practice for Barghests to lurk around The Veil, but to watch one feast on catch prey was a little unsettling. Marcus was tearing into a dead man’s arm, ripping large chunks of flesh off the bone and swallowing them whole.

“That is the scariest thing I have ever seen in my life.” George blurted, slapping a hand over his mouth once he realized that Marcus heard him. The arm fell from Marcus’ grip, the massive man slowly turning to face George, his glowing red eyes burning holes into the vampire’s heart. George felt his gut clench as Marcus took a step forward, a loud growl vibrating through his chest and through the floor. Instinctively, George took a step back, knowing that with his current power level he’d be no match for the Barghest. He’d made a fatal mistake: interrupting a Barghest during feeding time. The worst mistake: interrupting a Barghest during feeding time, as another source of _prey_ . Marcus lumbered forward more, George backing away slowly, hoping to make himself less of a target to the massive Barghest before him, the vampire finding himself backed against the wall within seconds.

“Marcus, I-” George pleaded before Marcus’ hand closed around his throat, causing his breath to catch in a gulp for air.

“Mar-cus, pl-ease!” George squeaked in panic, Marcus replying with a low growl. The Barghest’s lips curled back to reveal a set of frighteningly sharp fangs, his canines poised to bite into George’s flesh and never let go. George frantically gripped at Marcus’ arm, trying to pry his hand away from his throat so he could escape, only to have Marcus forcefully turn his head to the side, exposing his throat further.

“Marcus, don’t do this! Please, I’m a friend!” George pleaded, chancing a glance into the Barghest’s eyes. Everything that was Marcus wasn’t there, everything left was animalistic instinct to hunt and kill. Marcus was _gone_ . George shuddered as Marcus’ tongue slithered up the side of his throat, selecting the bite area. The vampire’s heart, usually cold and unmoving, was pounding hard, the drumming drowning out his thoughts as he prepared himself for what was to come. As Marcus lunged forward, fangs bared, George’s heart clenched, spasming in his chest.

“Marcus!” the vampire cried, slamming his eyes shut as he felt Marcus’ mouth make contact with his flesh. After a few seconds and having not felt the drain of being sucked dry, George opened his eyes, finding Marcus’ lips gently working their way from his throat up to his cheek, the Barghest pausing to plant a gentle kiss on his collarbone.

“Marcus?” George asked, confused. Pulling back, Marcus smirked at him, releasing George’s throat. “Had ya convinced, didn’t I?” the Barghest teased.

“I can’t believe you! I thought you were going to kill me!” George snapped angrily, stomping his foot.

“I wouldn’t do that to ya. I just needed a way to get close enough to taste ya without ya punching me in the face.” Marcus chuckled, George blushing deeply.

“T-taste me?” he asked, confused.

“Yeah. I had to get close enough to see if ya taste good.” Marcus repeated, as if that explained anything.

“Why did you have to taste me?” George asked.

“Because I want ya to be mine.” Marcus replied.

“Yours?” George echoed, lost in the meaning.

“Yeah, _mine_ . Every day, every night, every time in between. I want ya to be mine. Always and forever.” the Barghest explained. George’s face lit up red, the vampire turning around to try and hide it.

“You’re saying you have affection for me?” George asked.

“Yeah. Plus, your fangs are out.” Marcus replied. George hadn’t even registered the feeling of his fangs resting against his gums, the vampire flicking his tongue across the teeth to confirm their presence.

“Good lord, they _are_ .” George reported, hand moving to cover his mouth in shock. Hearing a chuckle behind him, George turned to see Marcus’ wide grin.

“Ya liked it.” the Barghest teased.

“I did _not_!” George protested, Marcus reaching forward to take George by the waist, dragging him forward to rest against himself.

“Ya did. Your fangs are out. They’re my witnesses.” Marcus confirmed.

“Maybe a little? That doesn’t prove anything.” George replied, crossing his arms.

“It does to me. Will ya be mine, George? My one and only?” Marcus asked. George bit his lip, processing his options.

“I-I will.” he blurted after a few minutes of silence between them. Marcus bent down, peeled off his glasses and planted a small kiss on his right eye, smiling softly.

“Thank ya, George. I promise I won’t let ya down.” the Barghest promised.

“I hope you don’t. In the meantime, I-whoa!” George began before Marcus abruptly picked him up, hefting him onto his shoulder.

“Where are we going? Put me down!” George cried, flailing as Marcus turned towards the kitchen’s exit door.

“I’m going to go catch something for ya to eat, darling. Don’t ya worry about it.” Marcus replied. George smiled as they slipped out the exit, the vampire leaning down to flick off the kitchen light as they left.

‘I’ll probably have to clean up that arm later.’ George thought as they headed off to the living world using Marcus’ key. 

 

~END


End file.
